The Daughter I Never Had
by WriteChristineR
Summary: Lorelai's early days in Star's Hollow told from Mia's POV.
1. Chapter 1

November 18, 1986. It wasn't a holiday or a close friend's birthday. There wasn't a big wedding or other function I'd prepared for weeks for that would finally pop up on that date. In fact, when I woke up that morning I'd never have imagined that that day would be forever engrained in my memory, both its date and its happenings. It is the day that's constantly reminding me that any ordinary day, a day you least expect to be special or even good, can change your life forever.

It started just exactly like every other day. I woke up at seven thirty, complained to myself about having to get up, got dressed for work, made myself coffee and something to eat, and got in my car to drive to work in considerably lower spirits than usual.

My son, John, was a business major at the University of Connecticut. He had been planning on taking his week-long Thanksgiving break and coming home, but the night before he had called me to tell me that he'd been offered a week-long internship for the same week. It was a fantastic opportunity for him, and I'd told him to accept, but still I was disappointed that I'd have to spend Thanksgiving alone. At that point it had been almost five years since my husband had passed away, and I didn't have any family besides John that lived in the general area.

I pulled into the parking lot behind one of my favorite places in the world, the Independence Inn, although that day I hardly noticed its charm. I got to work and almost immediately started dealing with customers, maintenance people, maids, parking attendants, linen deliveries and other assorted things that the owner of a successful inn tends to have to deal with on a daily basis.

I've always been very in touch with people. I seem to be able to tell what a person is thinking or feeling at times without them voicing a word of it. I suppose that's why I was so successful at my job. I had always known I wouldn't be able to own and manage the inn forever, but had sometimes worried about what would happen to it when I moved on with my life. I was always outwardly very modest, but inwardly I knew my talent, and I knew that I didn't know of anyone else that would be capable of doing everything I did in my position.

The most capable person I knew of was my concierge, Lisa. She was a very kind person, and was very skilled at keeping people happy. She often handled customer calls that I couldn't take, and handled them every bit as well as even I could. I had always known she could never manage though, whatever happened, because she wasn't good in leadership positions. She liked to be told what to do, not to tell others what they should do.

The moment I walked in that morning I knew that Lisa wasn't feeling well, although she didn't say anything. I asked her about it later that afternoon. "Lisa, darling, you look tired. Are you feeling alright?"

She waved it off. "Thanks Mia, but I'm fine, I just didn't get back until late last night. You know Shell had to come in late, so I covered for him until he could get here."

Our night manager, Shell, lived almost an hour north the inn. It was almost November, but it had been abnormally cold for the past week or so. The day before it had been warm enough to rain near where Shell lived, but it had gotten cold again shortly before he'd had had to leave, and the roads near his house had been icy. By the time he'd been able to get to work, he'd been almost two hours late.

"Yes, I know, but you look more than tired. You don't look like you feel well."

"I'm fine, Mia," Lisa said.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay." I didn't believe her, but I accepted the fact that she wasn't going to tell me anything different. I inwardly wondered if it was a hangover that was bothering her, as that wasn't the sort of thing you'd admit to your boss, particularly if your boss was an old-fashioned forty-nine year old lady. I knew how people viewed me. They saw me as very proper, the sort of person that would be offended by the very idea of excessive drinking or even celebrating. They didn't know me as well as they thought. Looking at Lisa though, I doubted that idea had any substance to it, no pun intended.

A few hours passed as they always did while I was working, with me not getting nearly as much done as I would have liked. I went back into the lobby to check something on one of the forms I'd left behind the front desk, and my heart immediately went out to the woman I saw with her head propped up on her arm, leaning on the desk. The sight of her flushed face completely ruled out the hangover option. "Lisa, honey, you're going home," I said as I walked into the lobby.

Lisa sounded like she was half-asleep. "Mia, I'm fine, it's just a headache, I really don't need to go home."

"Yes you do. Don't worry, I can handle the desk."

"I'll be fine, Mia. You don't worry about me."

"Yes darling, you will be fine, at your house, in your bed. Not here at my desk." My tone and face softened from stern and commanding to motherly and soft. "And apparently I have to worry about you, as you don't seem particularly concerned about yourself. When you're sick it isn't time to work, it's time to go home. Consider it the end of your shift."

"But Shell isn't here to take over."

"I've told you I can handle the desk. Out now, please."

Lisa moaned as someone who'd been defeated, stood up lazily and got her coat. "You're sure?" she asked me.

"Absolutely. Out," I commanded. As she walked through the door, I added in the same commanding tone, "And get better."

I was actually happy for the change of pace, although I felt horribly for Lisa. I hated to see people get sick. I, however, hadn't checked people in or wrote down reservations in far too long. I'd always sort of liked working the front desk, it was an odd sort of pleasure of mine. As it turns out, this particular day was the perfect day to be manning the desk. It seems to me that my working the desk that day was fate.

Fate it was that brought the girl into the lobby not two hours after I assumed my station at the front desk. I'll never forget the image of the tall, teenage girl walking into my inn, long, dark hair blowing every which way, carrying a large suitcase in one hand and a baby carrier in the other. She walked right up to the desk and dropped the suitcase onto the floor. I was concerned for a moment that she'd drop the baby carrier to the ground with the same amount of force, but that she set down gently.

"I need a job and a place to stay." That was what she had said. Just like that. No reason, no formality, no question, just a statement.

I had no idea how to respond. My mind was full of questions, but no answers. "Could you wait here for a moment?" I finally asked the girl.

Her answer was sarcastic and could have been viewed as rude. "Does it look like I have anywhere else to go?" she said loudly, with an exaggerated hand gesture.

I frowned, then nodded to the girl and went through the door behind the desk that led to the kitchen. Although it might have been a strange choice, my kitchen staff was the most readily accessible. "David?" I said, addressing my chef. "Could you spare one of your kitchen staff for a while? Something's come up… actually a multitude of things have come up and I need someone to man the front desk."

"Absolutely. Everything alright?"

I looked up at the ceiling, unsure how to answer that question. "It will be," I soon settled on.

"Alyson, go."

"Thank you so much, David."

"Hey, Mia, it's no problem," he said sincerely.

I smiled appreciatively. "Okay, now Alyson," I said, walking back out to the lobby with the sous chef, "Answer phone, talk to people. Check in book's here, reservation book's here. Need anything, I'll be in room seven. You," I said, pointing directly at the girl, not concerned with appearing rude, "follow me."

I came off so authoritatively that she followed without questioning. I lead her upstairs to an empty guest room with two double beds. It had already been cleaned, but my maids would have to forgive me. I sat down on the inner edge of one of the beds, facing the other bed, and motioned at the other bed. The girl took the hint and sat down facing me. She'd lugged her suitcase and baby carrier upstairs with her, having had nothing else to do with it. She'd left the suitcase by the door, but the baby carrier was sitting on the bed beside her. I stood up to look in and saw a little girl sleeping in the baby carrier.

"Precious," I said smiling, looking at the baby.

The girl smiled sweetly. "I know, isn't she?"

"How old?" I asked.

"Thirteen months."

"I assume she's yours." Considering the way the girl was traveling, it was the only logical conclusion.

"You assume right."

I tried to smile again at the girl, but this time it wasn't quite as genuine. I sighed. "You asked me for a job and a place to stay. I can give you a place to stay for the night, we do have an empty room. Now, again I assume that you don't have much money."

"And again you assume right. You're good at this game."

I sighed. I wasn't sure I should do this, but the possibility of getting in trouble with my boss wasn't a likely one, considering I was my own boss, so I went ahead with it. "For the night I won't charge you for the room, but you'll have to make it up yourself when you're finished with it. Check in is at three, so the room will have to be ready for the next guest by two-thirty. I get here at eight thirty or nine normally, so we'll sort out the details tomorrow." I paused, realizing I'd overlooked a rather important detail. I smiled at my mistake. "Now, before we get any further, we should introduce ourselves, shouldn't we? My name is Mia St. Marshall, and I own and manage this inn."

"Wow," the girl said, "I picked the right person to bargain with."

I raised my eyebrows. "As yet, we haven't done any bargaining."

"As yet," she said pointedly. "My name's Lorelai Gilmore, and this is Rory Gilmore," she looked at the baby carrier and smiled. "She's in the middle of her afternoon nap. Taking it a little late today, but making this a lot easier."

I smiled at the baby. She really was adorable. "How old are you, Lorelai?"

"Seventeen."

I closed my eyes for a moment, considering. Seventeen. She wasn't yet technically an adult, but seventeen was certainly old enough to make your own decisions. If she were even a year younger, I most likely would have sent her home. But she was seventeen, and obviously considering the circumstances, few of which I knew, she was inwardly much older than that. "Okay," I finally said. "Is it only for tonight that you need a place to stay?" I thought I knew the answer, but I had to ask her anyway.

"No, no, we need a place to really stay. To live, really. I don't have nearly enough money to buy a house, or even rent an apartment, but I thought if I could figure something out temporarily, I could get a job and maybe earn enough for an apartment… eventually."

"I'm going to venture a guess that you just left home."

"This morning."

"Do you have everything squared away with your parents? Because if you ran away, chances are they'll come looking. You're old enough to make your own decisions, but you don't want to constantly be hiding from your parents., not to mention anyone they might send searching."

"I left a note. I call every now and then and leave a message so they know we're safe. My dad tried to come get me and bring me home while we were eating lunch, but I wouldn't go. They get that I'm pretty much out of their control now. I did make a deal with my father that if I couldn't find a semi-permanent place to stay in a week, I'd come home. If I don't find a place for us to stay by then, I'll be out of money anyway, so I won't have much choice but to go back to my parents' house. I really, really don't want to do that, though," she said dramatically.

I thought for another long moment. "I'm a very honest woman, Lorelai," I said finally, "And when I say that I'll do everything I can to look into finding you a place to stay, I mean it. And I will, because although I barely know you, I like you. I don't know why, but I do, and I am an excellent judge of character." I smiled at her, and she smiled back. She had a beautiful smile. "As for a job, I can always use an extra maid. We'll figure out the particulars tomorrow, after I get a chance to invent at least a few of them." I smiled at my own partial joke.

"That easy?" she asked. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but wow."

I laughed. "That easy."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** It's been so long since I added a chapter to a story, I almost forgot how to do it. No joke. That's so pathetic it's not even mildly amusing. But I finally got around to updating this again, and hopefully it won't be nearly as long a time period before I update it again. Hope you like it!

Chapter 2

"Okay, so do you have a resume?" I asked. It was nine o'clock the next morning, and I was sitting on a couch in the common room with Lorelai, holding a pen and clipboard with several papers on it, trying to formally interview her for a maid job.

"Yes," she declared proudly. "I made it right before I moved out of my parents' house. Do you want it?"

I smiled somewhat forcedly. "Yes, that would be nice."

"Well, it's upstairs in my suitcase," she said, smiling sheepishly. "Can I go get it?"

I sighed. "Yes, go. Hurry up."

She stood up, baby in her arms, and started walking briskly toward the stairs. "Lorelai," I said, prompting her to turn back around to face me.

"Yes?"

"Would you like me to hold Rory while you get that?"

She let out a breath of air that didn't quite qualify as either a sigh or a laugh. "That would be good. Thanks so much, Mia," she said, walking back toward me and handing me the baby. When she was convinced that Rory was safely and securely in my arms, she dashed from the room and ran up the stairs two at a time to get her bag.

"Hi, Rory," I said softly to the sleeping baby. "You're adorable." She really was a beautiful baby. I smiled. It had been so long since I'd held a baby. I thought about the wild, frantic girl that was her mother. If she were my daughter, I'd want her to find somebody that would take care of her. Somebody to let her be as independent as she wanted to be and not to protect her from the world, but still to take her in and give her a place to stay and help her to find a job.

I was going to try my best to do that. I couldn't have told you why to save my life, but I'd liked this girl the moment I'd laid eyes on her. I wanted to do whatever I could for her, and I usually got what I wanted.

But what could I do for her? I could help her to get a job. That didn't seem difficult, it only involved a little paperwork. It took little skill to be a maid. But then there was the matter of finding her a place to stay. That was more difficult. I couldn't let her stay in a room for long, there'd be times when I'd need all of them for paying customers.

Before I could decide anything more, she came flying down the stairs, waving a piece of paper that I took to be her resume in front of her. "Got it," she said, somewhat triumphantly.

I shook my head, doing my best not to laugh at the situation. She handed me her resume, and I looked it over. There didn't seem to be much to it. I guessed that she hadn't quite known what was supposed to go on a resume, so I started asking her the questions that normally would have been answered.

"Any references?"

"Oh. No."

I frowned. "Okay. How about previous employers?"

"None."

"Any skills that could be useful here?"

"I can put on mascara in a moving car without messing it up," she joked.

I didn't entirely manage to hide my smile after that comment. I liked that although she knew that she had no qualifications for the job, she managed to keep a sense of humor. I knew that I was going to hire her.

"Okay," I said, placing her resume on top of the other papers on my clipboard and putting it aside. "Let's move beyond the interviewing for a moment. We need to come up with a place for you to stay."

"Yeah," she said, frowning. "I can't take your room forever."

"In fact," I said, "you can't take my room tonight. We're completely booked."

"Well, what can I do? Do you have any ideas?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

"No. I don't know the place. I don't even know the town."

I thought for a moment. Where could she stay? There wasn't room for her anywhere in the inn. How very biblical. Where else could I put her? Not the stable, that was too biblical, not to mention not a place for a teenage girl and her daughter. What else was there? I mentally cast around our grounds. There were tennis courts, which definitely wouldn't work, considering it was November and cold enough to snow. What else was there?

"I have an idea," I said slowly, "But it will take a little bit of work."

Lorelai looked skeptical. "What kind of work?"

"Well, there's a tool shed back behind the building. We don't use it much. The maintenance men sometimes store gardening equipment and things in it, but it's nothing I couldn't find another place for. Right now, it's not exactly fit to live in, but I'm sure I could find an extra bed and a crib somewhere. I'm sure I could find a couple of space heaters to keep the place warm, and maybe with time we could get a little bathroom-type thing put in. It's quite big, it could become like a little cottage for the two of you. It'll need a little decorating to make it feel more like a home and less like a tool shed, but that will be up to you to take care of. Do you think you're up for it?"

"It sounds perfect," the girl agreed enthusiastically. "Do you think it can be ready by tonight?"

"If you help me, we can at least have the tools cleared out and the bed and the heaters in by tonight."

"What do I need to do?"

"Well, let's see. I'll write a note for Stan, the head of our maintenance crew. Do you think you could find him and give the note to him?"

"Where would he be?"

"Somewhere on the grounds. He gets around, I never know exactly where he is."

"I'm sure I could find him. I'll go get Rory ready to go outside," she said.

"Good. I should be finished writing the note by the time you're finished getting her ready. I'll be at the front desk. Come find me there."

"Okay," she said. With that, she carefully took Rory from my arms and started up the stairs to the room she'd borrowed from me.

"Oh, and Lorelai?" I called to her.

She turned around on the stairs to look at me. "Yes?"

"Do you know how to make up a room?"

She looked at me for a moment. "No," she finally said.

I sighed. "Just get your things out of the room you're in and take them downstairs to the lobby. I'll find a place for them until the tool shed is ready. I'll have one of my maids make up the room."

"Thanks, Mia," Lorelai said gratefully.

"I'll teach you how to make up rooms tomorrow," I said.

She smiled, then turned and continued up the stairs.

I smiled, pleased with myself. It was quite possible that everything with this girl would turn out well.

While Lorelai was searching the grounds for my maintenance man, I was searching the basement for a spare bed. I'd always disliked the inn's basement. It was dark, despite any lights you turned on, and not particularly clean. Everything stored there was seldom touched, and as a result was dusty and full of cobwebs.

After a few long minutes of casting around, I found what I was looking for. It was a bed that had used to be in one of my rooms, but the frame had broken. It could be easily mended, but the crack would still be seen. For this reason, I'd bought another bed for the room and put this one in storage. My reluctance to throw anything away had for once come in handy.

The bed was heavier than I'd expected. I'd managed to remove the mattress and drag the frame halfway across the room by the time Stan at the top of the stairs. He smiled, clearly inwardly laughing at the sight of me attempting to drag a bed frame across the basement of the inn. "Mia, what are you doing?" he inquired.

"I need to get this frame fixed and brought to the tool shed by tonight," I said breathlessly.

"First of all," he said slightly authoritatively, "if you try to get this thing up the stairs with this crack where it is, either it'll break in half or you will. Either situation would be bad. Why don't you let me get a couple of my guys to fix it and bring it up for you?"

"That would be wonderful, Stan," I said. "The mattress is over there," I said, pointing to the general area in which I'd found the bed.

"Fine, fine," he said. "I'll get that cleaned up for you, too."

"That's wonderful Stan, but I still need you to get those tools out of the shed," I reminded him.

"Don't worry about it Mia, it'll all get done," he said.

"Do you know of any space heaters we might have lying around unused? I need at least one good one for the shed."

"I have Paul on it."

"I didn't ask you for that until now."

"I assumed you'd need it."

"Ah, but you know what happens when you assume."

"I make Mia happy."

I smiled. "In this case, you're quite right. Are you sure you can spare all the time and workers you must be putting into my project?"

"Absolutely."

"Slow day with the rest of your work?"

"Very slow."

"Are you lying to me?"

"That, you'll never know."

"Good boy," I said, walking up the stairs and leaving Stan with the dusty bed.

When I returned to the reception desk, Lorelai and Rory were there waiting for me. "I found Stan," Lorelai announced. "I gave him the note."

"I know," I said. "I just saw him."

"Oh," she said. "Well, good. I guess. What else can I do?"

I thought. I still had to find a crib, but I wasn't sure she could do much to help me with that. I was sure there was something constructive I could have her do. I had an idea. "Follow me a second. I'm going to find Jolene."

Jolene was my head maid. She could show Lorelai some of the basics of being a maid at the inn while I searched for a crib. It would work perfectly.

Lorelai followed me upstairs, baby in her arms, and I began checking rooms. Soon enough I found her making up a room halfway down the hallway. "Jolene," I said, getting her attention.

"Hi, Mia," she said pleasantly.

"Hi. This is Lorelai," I said, indicating the girl standing behind me. "She's going to be our newest maid. The thing is, she hasn't really worked much, and she's obviously never worked here, so she needs someone to show her the ropes. Would you be interested in training her?" Jolene was aware that my asking was simply me being polite. I wasn't actually giving her a choice in the matter.

"Of course," she said with a smile that was fairly obviously insincere.

"Okay," I said. "Then Lorelai, I'm going to leave you with Jolene. I have some other things to take care of. If you need me, I'll be back in about half an hour, either at the front desk or back by the shed."

"Thanks, Mia," Jolene said. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I began the fifteen minute drive to my house, mind abuzz. For the first time in weeks, I was truly happy. I was working not for tourists or wealthy party throwers, but for a young girl that I knew truly needed me. Something inside me told me to do whatever I could for her. In a strange and unexpected way, she was a godsend. For the first time since John had gone to college, I felt needed. This was a girl with no money, no job, no place to stay, and no one to help her find the right path. She had found me, I could help her. And from her I'd gain the feeling of purpose in my life, and, I thought, maybe I wouldn't have to spend Thanksgiving alone after all.

I arrived home and immediately made for my attic. It was a graveyard of memories, filled with dusty artifacts I should have discarded long ago. To most that knew me, I was the epitome of organization, but if they were to see my attic, this impression would soon be altered.

I sifted through boxes of my husband's old clothes, holiday decorations, once used bowling balls, every bicycle John had ever outgrown, stuffed animals and old chests whose contents surpassed even my knowledge before I found what I'd been looking for: John's old crib.

By playing a sort of Jenga, I managed to free the crib from the random boxes that surrounded it. I then proceeded to carry it back downstairs with me and tried to remember how to set it up.

It wasn't long before there stood a crib in my living room for the first time in over fifteen years. I ran my hand over the smooth wood frame. It was still in fairly good condition, all things considered. It was a little dusty, and the mattress would need washed, but it would certainly be fit for little Rory within a matter of hours.

I immediately set to work cleaning it, and within two hours it was folded up good as new in the back seat of my car. I drove back to the inn, content. I'd tackled another obstacle in the way of getting the shed ready to be lived in.

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"Let's move the bed over there," Lorelai said, "by the window."

"That's a good idea," I agreed. I stood on one side of the bed, and she on the other, and we pushed it across the small room. "Oh no, now it's blocking the door."

"Let's turn it," she suggested.

I made a counterclockwise motion with my hands. "That way?"

"Yeah, that way."

Slowly and carefully, we turned the bed. "That looks nice. What do you think?"

"I think I like it."

"Why don't you lie on it and test it that way? You're the one that'll have to sleep on it."

She enthusiastically sat on the bed, and we heard a loud thump. "What was that?"

I looked under the bed, and saw a board lying there, as I had expected. "One of the slats fell out of the frame. Help me put it back in."

We each lifted the mattress slightly and carefully slid our ends of the board back into position. "Well, as long as they don't all fall out at once, right?" she said lightly.

I frowned. "I feel like I'm giving you substandard material."

Her smile didn't fade. "Hey, if I was that worried about having a bed that didn't periodically fall apart, I'd still be living with my parents. Besides, I like it this way. It's quirky."

"If you think that's quirky, just wait until you're better acclimated with Star's Hollow. Let nothing surprise you."

"Sounds good. I haven't had much time to check out the town yet. Since I've been here you've kept me pretty busy. Not that I'm complaining. You've been nothing but sweet to us since we got here. You totally have the right to make me do anything at any time."

I smiled. "You'll have some free time tomorrow after work. Do you think you're ready to begin your first paid day as a maid?"

"Absolutely," she said enthusiastically. "Anyway, I need the money."

"I know you do. And I am paying you for the hours you spent training."

"No, Mia. I couldn't accept that. You've given me so much already."

"Oh, calm down. It's a reduced rate, what I pay all my maids during training. Don't worry. You aren't that special."

"Good. Okay, that's good. And I'm going to have to start paying you rent for living here as soon as I start getting paid."

"I'll take it out of your paychecks directly if you'd like."

She smiled. "That would be great."

"Now, it's getting late. I'm going to leave you, if you don't mind. Rory's already sleeping, and you should probably get some rest yourself."

"Oh, absolutely. I'm kind of tired. Night, Mia."

"Goodnight, Lorelai. I'll see you in the morning. You start at nine. Come to the kitchen and you can get breakfast any time before that."

"Great." I started toward the door, but turned when I heard her voice from behind me. "Mia?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. So much. You have no idea."

I smiled. I'd known she was grateful, but hearing her say it out loud felt wonderful. "It's my pleasure," I said honestly, as I shut the door behind me.

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Unfortunately, it seemed as if Lorelai and the other maids didn't take to each other right away. The very next day, I found Jolene at the front desk with a complaint. "She does everything too fast. All of her work's sloppy. It makes the rest of us look bad."

"Okay Jolene, let me look," I said, heading toward the staircase that led to the guest rooms. Once upstairs, I turned to Jolene, who wore a smug expression. "Show me a room that Lorelai made up."

She walked a little ways down the hallway and opened the door to a room. "This one," she said triumphantly.

I walked into the room and began inspecting. I could see nothing wrong with it. "It looks fine to me, Jolene."

She frowned. "You just like her," she accused.

"I'm willing to admit I do like her, but there is nothing wrong with this room," I said. Realizing that Jolene wouldn't believe me, I had an idea. "Okay Jolene, show me a room that you made up."

"This one," she said, sulkily opening the door to the room to the left of the one in question.

"Mary Ellen," I called to a maid down the hall. "Could you come here a moment?"

"What is it, Mia?" she asked.

"Jolene here was telling me that some of you are unhappy with the work our newest maid has been doing."

"Oh yes. It's sloppy. She doesn't put enough time into it."

"If this is true, it should be easy for you to identify the room Lorelai made up from the one Jolene did. Am I correct?"

"Of course. Jolene's the best we have."

"Great. Then these two rooms here," I said, indicating the two open doors. "Tell me who made up which."

Mary Ellen went into each room and quickly surveyed. When she had finished, she said confidently, "Easy. Jolene made up the one on the right."

"How did you know that, Mary Ellen?" I asked, almost enjoying watching my arrogant head maid's face redden.

"Look at the bedspreads. The one on the left is wrinkled."

"Watch that next time, Jolene," I said, turning to walk away so as not to show her the smile I couldn't keep from forming on my lips.

I heard Mary Ellen apologizing profusely to Jolene as I walked down the stairs to the lobby. But before I'd made it there, I heard a voice behind me. "That's it, you win the award for World's Coolest Boss."

Her words had a strange effect on me. Rather than proud, I felt ashamed. My own words played back in my head. _Watch that next time, Jolene._ I was horrible. I was mean. I was a catty high school girl. I hadn't been a catty high school girl when I was in high school. I turned to face Lorelai, but was unable to make eye contact with her. "I won't do that again," I said, more fiercely than I'd intended.

She looked puzzled. "What? Show Jolene the truth? Good, Mia. Never do that again. It was wrong."

"Don't use that tone with me," I said, scolding her as if she was my own daughter. "I'm done getting involved. You'll settle your differences with the other maids on your own."

"I didn't need you to get involved. You did that of your own accord. I stopped caring what people said about me about a year and a half ago."

I knew she was right, but that didn't make it any better. I'd played favorites. I wasn't supposed to play favorites. I liked Jolene. I really did. She was a good maid and a decent person. I'd taken on a new view of her simply because of her attitude toward Lorelai. That couldn't happen. I wouldn't let it. "I know," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm not making it any easier for you, am I?"

Her eyes widened. "You're kidding me, right? Mia, if it wasn't for you I still wouldn't have a job or a place to live. You don't owe me anything. I owe you."

I smiled weakly. "You're sweet."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't take a compliment without turning it around, can you? We'll have to work on that. In the meantime, you were completely in line. She's a jerk."

"No she's not," I said. "Try to get along with her, she's a nice girl."

She shook her head. "No she's not. I know girls like her, and she's not…"

"Lorelai," I interrupted.

"What?" she asked, her blue eyes sliding quickly to mine.

"Try to get along with her. For me."

She put on a genuine smile and nodded, before turning to go back to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I knocked on the shed's door. It had been a long day at work and I was anxious to get home, but I wanted to speak with Lorelai first.

She soon came to the door, bowl of Spaghetti-O's that was that night's dinner in hand. When she saw me she rolled her eyes, smiling. "You don't have to knock, Mia."

"Oh, that's alright, you deserve some amount of privacy."

"Not from you. Next time just come in. It's almost never locked."

"I'll never understand why the doors in this town have locks," I mused. "I have a question for you," I declared, taking a few steps into the shed.

"What?" she asked pleasantly as she fed Rory from a cup of applesauce.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you going to your parents' house?"

"Oh, God no," she said quickly. "Definitely not. Not yet. I mean, I guess I'll probably have to spend some holidays with them," she said with reluctance, "but now's too soon. I don't need to deal with that yet. I was thinking of treating myself to take-out that night." She smiled. "It is a holiday."

"I can offer you better than that if you're interested."

She looked to be bordering between curious and confused. "What?"

"My son, John… he's a little older than you; he's a college student. He normally comes home for holidays, but he was offered an internship over Thanksgiving. It's a wonderful opportunity for him, but it's out of town. With him gone, I have the house to myself for Thanksgiving. It's a big house, and it tends to get a little lonely, especially on holidays. If you and Rory would like to come spend Thanksgiving with me, I would be honored." I paused, giving her time to consider. "Of course," I added, "it is your first Thanksgiving away from your parents' house, and if you'd rather spend it just the two of you, I understand completely."

She smiled a sweet, genuine smile, and answered without pause. "Mia, we'd love to spend Thanksgiving with you, as long as we don't make it any extra work for you."

"Oh, of course not. It wouldn't be Thanksgiving if I didn't have to cook for somebody."

I was surprised to find that after my comment, Lorelai appeared shocked. "You don't have to cook for us," she said immediately. "You can order out, or…" she seemed out of ideas.

I smiled, although I was slightly confused. "It's no problem," I insisted. "I cook for myself almost every night, and when John's home, for him and almost always one or two of his friends." My tone changed as another thought occurred to me. "I'm a decent cook, I promise."

She smiled slightly. "I'm sure you are. It's just that…" she paused, thinking. "I guess I'm not used to the idea. I'd pay big money to see my mother cook."

I frowned slightly, unsure of what to think. "Your mother doesn't cook?"

She let out a small laugh. "God, no. I can't ever remember a time when she did. I'd be afraid to eat anything she made."

"Is she busy with work?" I asked, trying to fathom why a woman wouldn't make dinner for her family. "Does she order out often?"

"Hah, no. She doesn't have a job." She laughed. "Now that, I would pay to see." He mind seemed to wonder. "My mother in an office… her own office…" she laughed out loud, unable to contain herself. "And we almost never ordered out. Actually, never. We went out on occasion, but never ordered out. The cooking's left to whatever cook my mother happens to have on staff."

"You had a cook?"

A look of confusion crossed her face for a brief moment, but then she seemed to understand. "Right," she said, "different world here. My parents are pretty much loaded. Actually, they're pretty much completely loaded. They've always had cooks, maids, nannies… cotillions, functions, coming out parties, frilly dresses…" she trailed off, mind lost somewhere completely separate from the small room in which we sat. After a moment, she regained herself, and shook her head quickly, as if to shake out her thoughts. "That wasn't my scene. I can't be part of that world. That was one of the reasons I left."

I nodded, with an expression that I hoped seemed understanding. "Well, I would be honored to serve you your first Thanksgiving dinner cooked by a genuine housewife."

She smiled. "Can I bring something? What can I do to help?"

"Absolutely nothing," I insisted. "Just show up."

"Is anyone else going to be there?" she asked. "I mean, Thanksgiving for most people is a big family thing. Right?"

I shook my head. "Well, yes," I said, "but my family consists of John and me. I have further removed relatives dispersed throughout the country, but I don't often see them."

"Ah. Got it. So it'll just be the three of us?"

"Just the three of us," I confirmed.

"Great. You're sure I can't bring anything?"

"Positive."

"If I happened to bring something by mistake…"

"I would turn you away at the door."

"Wow. Okay, I'll make sure it doesn't happen."

I smiled. "Be sure to do that." I stood up. "I'll leave the two of you alone now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bright and early," she said with a roll of her eyes.

I smiled. "I'm not a morning person myself. Nevertheless, I will see you then."

"Yes you will," she said. "Thanks for the invite, can't wait."

I smiled as I left the shed. "Neither can I." For the first time since I'd found out John wasn't going to be home, I was excited about the coming holiday.

"This turkey is amazing, Mia," Lorelai said sincerely, as she put another piece on her plate.

"Thank you," I said. "But between the three of us I'm going to have enough left over to keep me in turkey for the rest of my life."

"Then I'll eat more," Lorelai said with a smile.

"Make sure you save room for the pie," I warned. "It isn't Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie."

"Okay, then one more slice of turkey and a medium-sized scoop of mashed potatoes."

"And that will leave room for a small slice of pumpkin pie?"

"No, that'll leave room for a large slice of pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream and a turkey cookie."

"I don't think I could have eaten like that even when I was your age," I marveled. It was amazing to me how extraordinarily thin she was.

"It's a gift," she said proudly, having no other explanation.

Having finished eating, I stood up and started clearing the leftover food from the table. "You're going to have to take some of this," I told Lorelai. "I won't eat it all in three lifetimes."

"Not a problem," she agreed. "It'll be nice to have some extra food around. Give us a break from Spaghetti-Os and macaroni. Right, Rory?" The little girl giggled.

I smiled. Inviting the girls to Thanksgiving dinner was proving to have been a good thing for all three of us. "I don't know how you can eat Spaghetti-Os," I said as I transferred turkey into a leftover container. "I was never much of a Spaghetti-Os person."

Lorelai laughed. "They grow on you," she said. Almost before I realized it, she was standing beside me scooping mashed potatoes into one of the Tupperware containers I'd set on the table.

"Oh sit," I insisted, "You're my guest."

"Come on Mia, I let you cook everything yourself, how do you expect me to let you clean everything up yourself, too? A girl has to have some fun." She smiled sweetly, her sarcastic tone barely audible under her apparent gratitude.

"Now," I said in a mock-stern tone, "I let you come spend the evening with me, how much fun can you expect to have in one night?"

"Hey, I'm young, I'm not easily satisfied."

I realized that she was far too stubborn to agree not to help, and I gave up trying to persuade her. "Well," I told her, "I do have a system. It's been slowly perfected over the thousands of years that I've been making dinner."

"Wow, Mia," Lorelai interjected facetiously, "I didn't think you were a day over nine hundred and ninety-nine."

"Oh, you're too sweet," I joked.

"Well, tell the sweet girl about the ancient system," she insisted. "I think I'm still young enough to adapt."

"First of all," I said, smiling slightly, "The mashed potatoes go in this container." I held up a deep, round container with a blue lid.

"That just figures, doesn't it?" she said, half-exasperated. "Leave it to me to mess up the system before I know it exists."

"Don't worry about it. Here," I said, handing her a large disposable container. "Put what you want in here. I have more, so if you fill it, just let me know. Don't be afraid to take all the food you want, I won't eat half of this by myself."

"Great, thanks so much," she said genuinely. "Just let me fix my potato mistake first." She spooned the mashed potatoes into the correct container, and proceeded to wash the container she'd mistakenly used.

"Aw, you didn't need to do that," I said as she put the container back on the table.

"It's no problem," she insisted. "I intend to rob you of most of your turkey to make up for it."

"By all means," I told her, my tone a little too serious in comparison with hers.

"You really are too sweet," she said, although not quite in a complimentary way.

"I'll work on it," I promised her. "But not until I get rid of more of this food. Take a few rolls, I bought far too many."

As she obliged, I realized that taking food was the one thing she didn't argue about. I realized painfully that this was probably primarily because she couldn't afford to argue, and made up my mind to push as much food on her as I could manage.

We put away food and chatted idly until most of dinner was cleaned up. I put on coffee to go with the dessert. "I tend to make coffee a little strong for most people," I warned Lorelai. "I'll cut back a little."

"No, strong is good," she insisted. "Make it strong. Coffee should taste like coffee."

"Trust me," I told her, "It will taste like coffee."

"Make it strong," she repeated. "Make it like you'd make it if I wasn't here."

"Okay," I agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "I didn't even like coffee when I was your age," I recalled, as I scooped coffee grounds into my coffeepot.

"I started drinking coffee when I was twelve," she told me.

"Wow. Twelve?"

"Yeah. One of my mother's maids started letting me drink it, and I really didn't like it that much, but when my mother found out, she had a fit. So I kept drinking it."

"Ah. So you drink it purely to drive you mother crazy?"

"At first, yes. Not anymore. I like it now. I guess I acquired a taste for it. Plus, between Rory and working, the caffeine boost really helps."

"Does that mean the present company exhausts you?" I asked playfully, pretending to be shocked.

She laughed, understanding that I was joking. "Oh yeah, you two are pretty tiring," she said.

"Well, we try," I said, smiling. "Right, Rory?" Obediently, the little girl giggled.

"You so have her trained."

I smiled deviously. "Yes, I suppose I do." The coffee done, I poured it and sliced the pie. "You said you wanted a large piece?"

"Perfect," she said.

"I'll cut Rory a little piece, too."

"She'll love you more than me."

"I'm trying." I smiled.

"Well, you know," she said, thinking, "My parents won't spoil her. She needs a grandmother figure."

I was touched that she'd even consider thinking of me in that way. I didn't know what to say. My lips curled into a smile without my direction. I set the pie on the table and sat down. Lorelai did the same. "I'll do my best," I said, breaking eye contact with my pie to look at her.

"You've been great, Mia," Lorelai said seriously. "You didn't have to do any of this. You…" she broke off, but then seemed to regain her train of thought. "Giving me a job, giving us a place to stay, having us over for Thanksgiving… that's way above and beyond the call of duty. All of it. You…" she broke off again. "It's Thanksgiving, right? I mean, really," she looked a little uncomfortable, but continued, "You've given us so much to be thankful for."

I didn't know what I should say, or what she wanted me to say. I wasn't entirely sure what to think. She was a sweet girl. I didn't know why I'd taken an immediate liking to her, but I had. I'd thought I'd needed someone to need me, but I was gradually realizing that it was more than that. She was a friend. "Lorelai…" I started.

"Don't. You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to tell you that. This is amazing pie, by the way," she said, changing the subject.

I smiled. "Thank you, Lorelai." I tried to say the words with a little weight, and I hoped she got that I was thanking her for more than her compliment of my pie.

She smiled back. "You're welcome," she said quietly. She got it.


End file.
